‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. “You will not even answer my letters. ” He found her bra beneath his pillow and handed it to her.
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